


Train Rides and Late Nights

by mukettyl



Category: IT, Reddie - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - No IT (King), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukettyl/pseuds/mukettyl
Summary: when richie picks the right day to leave work late, and eddie picks the right day to get to the station on time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first chapter of a hc that i’ve had been wanting to write for years and finally got myself to do it- the title says it all, and it’s from both richie and eddie’s pov.

It was 10:36 on a Friday night, and Richie had spent his night at work, like usual. 

He absentmindedly ran his hands through his black, unruly curls as he walked toward his backpack. He was still in his work uniform, a tattered blue jumpsuit which was about 3 inches too short at the ankles, and his dad’s old Timberlands. Pinned over his heart was a name tag that said “Richie T.” in scribbled, black sharpie writing.

Technically, his shift had ended at 10:00 p.m., but he wanted to stick around to help close shop. It’s not like he had anywhere else to be.  
“See ya Mr. D!” Richie yelled over his shoulder as he headed outside through the back bay of the garage. Shutting the doors behind him and putting his earbuds in, he was off.

Every Friday night he walked the mile and a half to the train station after his shift, rather than waiting for the bus to pick him up. It felt refreshing to him, the cool and crisp autumn air. He bounced on the balls of his feet to the rhythm of his music as he walked down the concrete path. It was foggy outside, but more of a mist than anything dense. It made him feel free, alive.

The street lamps flickered as he passed them, as if they were capable of responding to their surroundings. The mist had turned into a light drizzle as the train station came into view. He went to check his watch as he realized that he couldn’t read it due to the newly rain covered lenses of his glasses. He balled up the end of his sleeve into his fist to wipe them off. But before he could check the time, he heard the call for the train and just decided to make a run for it.

He arrived just in time for the train and was running across the tracks to the middle section as the gates began to descend. He tried to catch his breath while he waited as the doors began to close behind him. He had boarded the third car to the right, and went to sit in the same seat. The same seat that he sits in every Friday night.  
But tonight was different. There was another boy in this seat, already. 

“Why are you staring at me?”

With this, Richie snapped out of whatever trance had been holding onto his thoughts and re-focused his eyes to actually look at the smaller boy in front of him. His eyes were large with curiosity, or was it irritation? Probably both, Richie thought to himself. This boy looked extremely disheveled but more organized than Richie had ever been in his life, simultaneously. His hair was all over the place and his face was as red as a strawberry, yet his polo was buttoned to the top and the stack of paper he held in his lap were neatly color coded and pressed. 

Richie took out an earbud to respond,  
“Actually, I wasn’t staring at you, but now that I’ve taken a better look at you, I kinda wish I had been.” and sat down in the aisle across from the boy with a bewildered look on his face.

————

It was 10:10 p.m. as Eddie began to pack his bag and Mr. Lyroe finally finished his lecture on the importance of perspective. Almost two and a half hours of him monotonically talking about absolutely nothing. Nothing that Eddie bothered to listen to, that is. 

Class was supposed to be over at 9:45 and he knew that there was no rational possibility of him making the bus that was a mile away in five minutes, but there was no other option, so he planned to do the near impossible.

He took everything he had learned from high school track and put it to use for what he hoped would be the last time he would ever need to in his entire life. And with that, he ran. It felt so much better than he had expected it to. After he had finally stood up to his mother and refused his inhaler, along with the plethora of placebos he was on, his life became a million times better. He had finally freed himself, and God knows he took that to his advantage. He had joined track and field, which was the one thing he was never allowed to do. He ended up having a natural talent for the sport and came in first place for the mile every year at state. 

While running towards the bus, his hair had fallen over his eyes and his nose began to run, but it wasn’t bothering him. His cheeks were flushed and his face cold from the brisk October air. He had done it, he got on the 10:15.

The bus pulled into the cul de sac of the train station and let off all the passengers, being as it was its last stop. As Eddie stepped down the last stair of the bus, he walked over to the bench in the middle section of the station. It was 10:50, so he had 10 minutes until the train arrived. As he waited, it began to lightly rain around him, although he was nice and dry under the roof attached to the bench. 

He doodled little birds all over the back page in his sketchbook. He dedicated this page to all the birds that his best friend would tell him about when they came across one of them. Yesterday’s was a pileated woodpecker, so it acted as today’s sketch.   
The train pulled up and halted to a stop. He got on the car that ended up in front of him and took the first seat he saw. As Eddie looked up, he saw a much taller boy that seemed to be running for his life directly towards him.

This unknown boy did a b-line for the train car and jumped on seconds before the doors closed behind him. He looked around for a second and then just stared at Eddie, with a glossed over look in his eyes, under the coke bottle lenses. His chest was heaving rapidly.

After looking at him for what felt like minutes, Eddie finally mustered out, “Why are you staring at me?”

Whatever the lanky boy had been so enamored by quickly went away with a swift shake of his head. He took out his earbuds and looked Eddie up and down for a second before responding with, “Actually, I wasn’t staring at you, but now that I’ve taken a better look at you, I kinda wish I had been.” and sat is the seat across the aisle from him.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To say the least, when they meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, please please please let me know what you think of this chapter.  
I’m not sure if things such as indents or italics transferred over to ao3, but let’s hope- if not, then I’m sorry for the messy formatting.  
Also, sorry this took so long, but I’m just glad to finally have it up for you guys! :)

Two weeks have gone by and Eddie couldn’t get the train boy out of his mind. He rolled over onto his side to look out the ajar window at the grey morning mist covering the sky. Breathing in the fresh and foggy air, he began imagining different, intricate, ways that the scenario could have played out. He could have said absolutely anything besides, “Why are you staring at me?” But no, he just had to choose those particular six words. 

He pulled the blankets around himself tighter, and let the warmth engulf him for a few moments longer, before getting out of bed.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and shuddered.  _ God, it’s cold _ . 

He looked around for a second before deciding to put on a pair of sweatpants and oversized, worn, navy sweatshirt, over the t-shirt and boxers he had slept in. On his way to the kitchen, he regretted having not put on socks as he felt the cold linoleum tiles underneath his feet.

“Well good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” 

Eddie looked up from the coffee pot he was now standing behind to pay attention to the voice coming from the living room in front of him.

“Good morning, Stan.” he replied groggily, dragging out the word “morning” until it had six extra sylobols. “One or two sugars?”

“Two, thank you.” Stan said, putting down his book, “I have to go visit Bill at some point today at the shop if you want to come with me. My engine light is on but I can’t figure out why, and I’ve stopped trying to guess.”

“Bill’s a mechanic?” Eddie asked, walking into the living room. He handed Stan his coffee and sat across from him on their lazy boy so that he could face him.

“No, not quite. But his dad and best friend are.”

“Oh, interesting.” Eddie took a long sip of his coffee before continuing with, “Yeah sure, I’ll tag along. I don't have any classes today anyways, so there’s nothing else I have going on.”

“Okay, that’ll work. I just need to get dressed and then we can head out now, if you’re ready.”

-

The two boys stepped out of the car in front of the shop. Stan had decided to completely step-up Eddie’s sweater and sweatpants by wearing a real outfit. 

He was wearing a light blue polo with a blue jay embroidered onto his breast pocket, a pair of khakis, and an oversized grey cardigan. Eddie’s Betty Boop socks were no match.

Above the front doors read, “Denbrough’s Auto Repair,” in big, bold, blue letters. Eddie had never realized that Bill’s dad owned this place. He passed it all the time on the bus on his way to school, but it had never occurred to him that they could be the same “Denbroughs.”

After what seemed like ages, Bill walked out to greet Stan and help him figure out the issue with his engine light. Eddie stood there sort of awkwardly as they said their hellos and talked about the past few days in which they hadn’t had a chance to see each other.

“Hey Eddie! If you want, there are some doughnuts and coffee inside from earlier this morning. Help yourself!” Bill said to Eddie with a smile.  _ Thank God _ , Eddie thought to himself,  _ a reason to escape _ . 

Eddie walked up the stairs and through the front doors. There was an empty front desk in front of him to the left, and a hallway that seemed to lead to a smaller room to his right. Assuming the doughnuts were in said room, Eddie took a right. He found a pot of coffee and a half empty box of a baker’s dozen on the table. Bingo.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and added creamer and two sugars. He grabbed a powdered doughnut, as well, and went to take a seat in the lobby area.

_ Napkins, I need napkins. _

Attempting to hold his coffee upright and not drop his doughnut all while grabbing napkins was not working for him. He decided to hold the doughnut in his mouth and grab napkins with his newly freed hand, instead. 

Walking into the lobby with his doughnut in his mouth, still trying not to spill his coffee, he almost didn't see the person about to walk directly into him. Correction, he did not see the person who ended up walking directly into him. 

“God, my bad. Do you see my glasses anywhere?”

_ No way. Not now. Not today. _

Eddie took a better look at the boy, who was now on his hands and knees searching for his glasses. Train boy. He recognized the tattered blue jumpsuit and the mass of dark, curly hair. The boy stood up and Eddie was able to half make out “Richie” on the jumpsuit’s nametag.

Eddie stood there dumbfounded as he watched the curly haired boy attempting to get his grounds and clean off his lenses,“Hey bud, thanks  _ so _ much for the tremendous amount of help, totally not like you just stood there and let me suffer for the last minute and a- hey, it’s you!” 

\- 

Two weeks. It’s been fourteen days since he last saw him, and he couldn’t get the damn boy off his mind. Richie had purposefully taken the night shift everyday he could, just in case they’d end up on the same train again. But it was to no avail.

After these two weeks of desperately attempting to run into him, Richie gave up. He decided to believe in destiny, fate, and all that, and that if they were meant to meet again, they would. 

Richie got off work early on Thursday, so he decided to take his time on his walk to the train. He put in his earbuds and he was off. He naturally walked fast, so he knew that he’d have plenty of time to get to the station before the train reached his stop. He had about 45 minutes, so he decided to wander around the city. It was getting colder as the days passed, so Richie decided to start wearing his dad’s old bomber jacket. 

After the death of his father, Richie’s mom decided that she couldn’t stay in Boston anymore. Richie and his dad never really got along. He knew he loved him, but the amount of fighting his parents did had been unbearable for him. He really didn't mind leaving it all behind. So at ten years old, Richie and his mom got on a plane and never looked back. They have now lived in Chicago for the past nine years, but since the move, things have never been quite the same. 

Richie knows that his mom blames him for his father’s death. Remarks such as “Well if we never had you…” or: “God! I understand why he couldn’t put up with you anymore!”, helped his claim. He tries to not let it get to him, but it's on nights like this when it all builds up. The moon was almost full and the amount of stars visible was mesmerizing, for the city, that is. 

Richie could hear the roar of the train’s engine as he approached the platform. He had continued to board the same car and sit in the same seat as he had two weeks ago. Not as if this would have changed, but the idea of maybe seeing him again was just adding to his reasoning. 

-

He woke up the next morning in the dark and dying of heat. His sheets were sticking to him as if his skin were adhesive, and his mouth was as dry as the air filling his room. His blinds weren’t completely shut, but the lack of sun led him to believe that it must be before 6:00 a.m.

_ Fuck, it’s hot. _

He knew that the furnace in his apartment would turn itself on at full blast if it got below 67 degrees fahrenheit. He knew this because he hated it with a burning passion. 

He discarded the sweaty sheets off of himself by kicking at them until they fell off of his bed, and rolled over until he could reach his glasses off of his nightstand. 

He sleepily propped the frames onto his nose while simultaneously trying to keep his curls from blocking his vision so that he could read the time.

5:49 a.m.  _ Yuck _ .

Richie didn't have to be anywhere until 10:00 a.m. today, so he landed on a shower being his best option at the moment. Well, technically he didn't have to be anywhere today at all. But he told Bill that instead of coming in at night like usual, that he could come in today early and just stay late. Bill has been his best friend since he moved to Chicago. After hearing about the death of Richie’s father, Mr. Denbrough immediately took Richie under his wing. When he turned sixteen, Mr. D. offered him a job at his auto shop, and Richie has been working there ever since.

After lazily walking to his bathroom, Richie turned on the water in his shower. He proceeded to get undressed, which just consisted of taking off the mis-matched socks and boxers that he had fallen asleep in. The ice cold water felt soothing against his skin. He lathered his hair in shampoo that smells heavily of green apples, and just used the remnants of it to clean his body. Bill had stayed over one night and gave him trouble for not owning body wash, but couldn’t argue with the fact that Richie did always smell very good. 

After drying off and wrapping a towel around his head, he walked back into his room and to his closet to get half dressed. He still had three hours before he had to leave, so there was no rush. He put on his favorite t-shirt that said, “The Revolution Is My Boyfriend” that his friend Bev had gotten him at a small thrift shop on her trip to Minneapolis with her boyfriend, and a pair of neon orange briefs.

He walked into the kitchen to make some half-assed breakfast. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and made some toast. While waiting for his bread to turn to toast, he switched on the tv. The only thing on at this hour besides infomercials and news was Seinfeld.

_ It’ll do _ . 

*ding!*

“Gahh!” Richie yelped as he spilled orange juice all over himself. “Da fuck was dat foh bruhv?” To which his toaster didn’t respond. 

As a child, Richie used to talk to himself extensively while his parents argued, and to keep himself entertained, he’d use accents. Now, whenever he got startled or caught off guard, he would automatically start talking in a British or Australian accent. 

He picked up some paper towels and cleaned up the spilled juice as best he could. He then grabbed his toast and smeared grape jelly all over it before putting the pieces together and wrapping it in a paper towel, rather than dirtying another plate. He took his toast and the remainder of his OJ into his living room and sat down to watch Seinfeld until he had to get fully dressed.

-

As Richie walked up to the shop, he heard, “Morning, bud!” from in the doorway atop the front stairs.

Without looking up, knowing who it was, he responded with “Guten morgen, Big Bill!” 

Instead of waiting for a response, he walked directly past Bill and towards the donuts he saw on the table in front of him. He grabbed one covered in strawberry icing and rainbow sprinkles. Without even bothering to ask if they were up for grabs, he ate basically half of it in one bite. 

“Help yourself, I’m gonna go greet Stan, he just got here.”

With a mouth full of donut all Richie could mutter was, “O-ay. Hank youh!”

After scarfing down as many donuts as he thought he could muster before getting sick (three), he poured himself some coffee and decided to get to work. He went around back and put up the garage doors, took out the trash from the past week, and listened to the voicemails that had been left since yesterday. Because it was so early, he really didn't have much to do, so he went to go pour himself another cup of coffee when he walked smack dab into someone turning the corner as well. His glasses fell off of his face so he immediately dropped to the ground to start searching for them. 

“God, my bad.” Richie managed, “Do you see my glasses anywhere?”

Richie was sure that whoever this kid that he had just ran into could see him frantically looking for his glasses, but just stood there as if everything was just peachy keen. After what felt like an hour, Richie’s hand finally felt the frames. While happy he found his glasses, he wanted to make sure whoever this schmuck was knew that he was no help.

“Hey bud, thanks  _ so _ much for the tremendous amount of help, totally not like you just stood there and let me suffer for the last minute and a- hey, it’s you!” 

It was him! It was the boy that had sat in  _ his _ seat on the train exactly two weeks ago. The cute one who told Richie to stop staring at him. The one who was now standing in front of him and staring at Richie like a deer in headlights.

“Why on Earth are you at an auto shop at 10:00a.m.?”

The boy looked extremely flustered, and while holding a donut in his mouth, just responded with “I gotta go,” as best as he could.

“Wait, what’s your name?” Richie called after him, but he was already out the front door and down the steps. 

A few moments later, Bill walked in, questioning, “Why’d Eddie just run outta here like that?”

_ Eddie. _


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “who was that?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! i know this is short but expect more soon!

_ “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” _

“Who’s this Eddie kid you speak of? You mean the little jackass who just bumped into and watched me scrounge for my glasses on the floor like an idiot?”

“Huh?” Bill questions with a scrunched up and confused look on his face.

Richie attempts to give annoyed eye roll, to make sure she doesn't seem too invested in the topic, “Yeah! The kid who just ran out the door that you just referred to as “Eddie.” Him!”

As Richie let the name slip off his tongue he felt a weird sense of guilt as if the word was too sacred to be said out loud by him.

“Oh he’s Stan’s roommate, you two have never met? Kinda surprising actually considering how long Stan and I have been together-”

“Bill,” He says with a deadpan look, “you know I love ya, but for the love of our sweet Jesus H. Christ,  _ please _ don’t give me your whole love story again in the middle of the hall.”

Richie gestures around them to indicate that the hall was not the place to express love.

“Richie, I wasn’t going to-”

“Shhhhh, little one,” Richie says while pressing a finger in the air in front of Bill’s mouth, but not touching it, because he’s well aware that his hands are not clean enough to do that to him “Doesn’t matter, don't wanna hear it. Kid seems weird anyway.” 

And with that, Richie goes back to work.

-

“God, Eddie, you look like you just saw your mother naked” Stan exclaims, as Eddie comes hurling towards him, as if his name were Barry Allen.

“Get, get!” Eddie whisper-yells while motioning at Stan to get into the car which he is currently leaning against.

“Why the sudden rush? You have donut on your face Ed-”

“Get!”

Stan speed walks around the car after unlocking it, and before he can even open his door, Eddie is in the passenger seat with his seatbelt buckled and his head down.

“For the love of God, Eddie; what is going on?”

As if he were trying to beat the Guinness World Record For speed talking, Eddie began to ramble, “I ran into the boy in there and he dropped his glasses and then I was gonna drop my coffee and was worried that if I helped him I would spill it on him and-”

“Boy with glasses?” Stan interrupts, “You ran into Rich?”

_ “Rich” _ the way the nickname for the boy rang in Eddie’s ears was overwhelming, he felt like he had just rode his bike in the wind for hours and the surrounding sounds were muffled and dull. 

_ Eddie, answer Stan’s question.  _

After collecting his thoughts enough to form anything coherent, he responds with a quick, “Yes? No? I don't know. Drive!”


End file.
